Unbelievable
by Giedre
Summary: [Tithe] Natasha gets roped into helping her friends with a rave they're putting on in honor of Halloween, but when something goes wrong, she finds herself in a lot more trouble than she bargained for...
1. Feeling a Little Blue

**Based (loosely, asthis is a very minor character) on Holly Black's awesome book, _Tithe_. She owns everything, even lovely Natasha... sigh. Umh, for those of you wondering... While I was rereading _Tithe_ for the umpteenth (is that an actual word?) time, I got kind of interested in the girl taking money at the rave Kaye and Roiben attend on the Jersey shore, so obviously, I created a little story about her:**

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**Chapter 1: "Feeling a Little Blue"**

The beehive wig had taken forever to find. For once however, cleaning out her mother's attic had been profitable to both parties, when usually it was useful to neither. It wasn't like her mother actually bothered to come up here in the first place. The only purpose the attic served was that of a dusty storage bin, occasionally yielding a prize like the wig she'd just unearthed.

So blonde it was almost white, the mass of fake hair that had almost been mistaken for a rolled up blanket rose from the mannequin's head in a mountain of silvery-blonde strands, pulled tightly into a beehive shape. Even coated in dust, the twisted hair shone in the feeble lamplight that served as Natasha's beacon in the sea of junk she'd been wading through for the past hour.

It didn't take her long to finish though. Her mother living alone caused much less junk to accumulate than a family of three would give off, and so there was much less cleaning to do. Natasha took the beehive downstairs, getting a wide-eyed stare from her mother.

"What… _where_ did you find that?"

"In the attic, where else?" Natasha replied scathingly. It was just like Sara to ask her daughter to come over and clean, then be shocked with the girl's findings in the rarely used attic. Natasha watched as her mother pushed herself delicately off the couch she'd been lounging on, watching soap-operas. Sara still believed she was twenty most days, a belief called into question every time she found herself forgetting things, or feeling pain in her bones every time she moved.

Natasha held the wig possessively under one arm, backing up a step, away from her mother. Sara caught the movement and stopped a few feet away from Natasha, a small confused frown on her pursed, painted lips.

"Dear," Natasha cringed inwardly at the childish pet name, "You cannot seriously _want_ that thing." Her mother held out her arms for the wig, raising an eyebrow when Natasha shook her head.

"Oh yes I do. And by the look of things, you haven't wanted it in a very long time." She paused, watching the frown deepen on her mother's face, sending up a string of wrinkles between the woman's eyebrows and around her pursed mouth. The confusion quickly left the woman's pale blue eyes, identical to her daughter's, replaced by anger.

"Kaylie - "

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name."

"No. Nobody calls me that but you anymore; it hasn't been my name for a very long time."

"It's the name you were born with." Sara spoke tiredly, almost dully, as if she were repeating lines in a play that she'd repeated over and over already.

"And I don't want it anymore." Natasha realized that she was edging into bitch-mode, and felt a flush of guilt at doing exactly what dad had always told her not to do- get in fights with mom.

A month before Natasha was supposed to leave for college, her father had gone to the local doctor's office for some chest pains he'd been experiencing. In six months, he was dead. Nobody- not the doctors, Sara, nor Natasha, still Kaylie then- had been able to do anything at all about it.

Her father's parting words to her, spoken on a hospital gurney, were not what she had expected. Not even an "I love you," or, "Take care of your mother for me," like she heard all the time in those made-for-TV movies. Dad knew all about the fights Kaylie and Sara often engaged in, as he was usually the one left to break up their spats. Now, there would be no one to play as referee, since he was dying. This was a fact Natasha knew, but had not been able to accept at the time.

"Trust you instincts." Almost a cliché, the single sentence was the only thing she heard before a nurse came to take the girl away. The doctors had work to do, and the last thing they needed was a teenager hanging around while they were trying to save a doomed life.

As the nurse gently pulled on her arm, Kaylie watched as her father's mouth continued to move, this time in silent murmurs. Even when she tried to lean close, with the nurse still yanking on her arm, she could hardly make out his words over the bleeping machines surrounding his bed, and the nurse's words of "c'mon dear".

"Natasha… Find Kaylie. Tell her about herself." The words were so softly spoken, with her father's eyes shut tightly against the pain in his chest. Kaylie had hardly enough time to hear them before the nurse gave one final tug on the girl's arm, pulling her successfully away from the dying man. For hours, Kaylie sat in the waiting room with her mother, silently turning the words over in her mind. Spoken together, they meant nothing to Kaylie. Worse, she doubted that they would make sense to anyone. Why would she need someone to tell her about herself… especially someone with a name like Natasha? She'd never met anyone with that name before, but it sounded Russian, so maybe it was someone from her father's home country…. The questions spun around her brain for hours, until around midnight when a short little doctor approached them, his mouth turned down and his eyes heavy with the information he had to bear to the two sleepless women waiting patiently for news.

After her father's death, Kaylie, for reasons unknown even to herself, changed her name to the one her father had spoken, in conjunction with her own. Now, almost two years later, everyone she knew called her Natasha, except for her mother, who insisted on calling the girl by her birth name.

The same mother with whom she was fighting with over a dusty beehive wig, of all things.

"Please, mom?" She asked, letting a whine creep into her voice.

"I've no idea why you even want that mangy old thing in the first place." Sara's tone softened slightly as she added, "God knows, it hasn't seen any sunlight in years."

Natasha grinned, taking the softening of her mother's voice as an unspoken "okay."

"Thank you, mom."

Dying the wig was another matter entirely, but one for which Natsha thought she was at least mostly prepared. Since she was majoring in art at the college she'd been attending for the past couple of years, she had full access to all the amenities the campus had to offer. Several of the art professors had looked at her strangely when she explained her goal, but were willing to help if things got out of hand.

At the end of the day, she was left with blue stained fingertips and a bright cerulean blue wig that she knew would kill her mother on sight if Sara ever ended up seeing it.

"We need a door girl."

"What?" Natasha was shaken out of her reverie by her roommate, Lisa. The girls had become fast friends during their freshman year, and were now often referred to as Snow and Rose around campus. Like in the fairytale, it was rare to see Lisa without Natasha being somewhere nearby, and vice versa. Natasha was fair, with pale blonde hair that hung curtain style half-way down her back, while Lisa's skin was cinnamon colored, and her dark hair so unruly that she was forced to keep it relatively short, else it would become completely unmanageable. Complete opposites, and best friends. Natasha had found herself taking Lisa for granted, as if she'd known the girl her entire life. She had to admit that it was nice to have someone to talk to.

Lisa had barged into their room only a half an hour ago, talking about a rave a bunch of kids were putting on in celebration of the holiday. Apparently, Lisa had been roped into helping, and was trying to get Natasha to do the same.

"A door girl." Lisa repeated, brushing a curly strand of brown hair off her face. At the look of Natasha's confusion, Lisa clarified, rolling her eyes comically. "You know, someone to take money at the door. You can show off your costume, and you won't have to dance…" It was common knowledge to most of their friends that Natasha hated dancing, and would rather just stay on campus and work on her clothing designs than go out and party. "C'mon, Nat! It's Halloween. You can't stay locked up inside on Halloween…" Lisa trailed off, looking hopeful, and Natasha knew, even before the words came out of her mouth, that she was going.

The abandoned club, once named 'Galaxia', straddled the Jersey coast and Atlantic Ocean on a burned-out pier only an hour from the college Natasha attended during the day. Natasha parked carefully, out of the way. She didn't want to imagine how many cars were going to be shoved into the tiny parking lot when the rave beagn in earnest. But she was here early to set up, and was grateful not having to search for a place to park. She noticed Lisa's car already in the lot, and wondered for the twentieth time why exactly she'd bothered to show up at all.

As she walked toward the building, the memory of her father's last words came unbidden to her mind. "Trust your instincts… Find Kaylie, tell her who she is…." Shaking herself, Natasha wrapped her arms around herself to shield from the bite of the old memory and the snap of the wind that had suddenly picked up off the sea. It was a holiday, and one of her favorites at that- she didn't want to be reliving one of the worst nights of her life _now_.

Natasha strolled into the abandoned building, watching as a couple of young men, obviously from the college, rigged up strobe lights near the bar. She had hardly been watching them for a minute when Lisa pounced on her, grabbing her arm.

"Ooh, Natasha. You look awesome." The words gave Natasha pause as she glanced down at her outfit. The dyed blue wig completely hid her hair from view, and she'd matched it with blue colored makeup and jewelery. Her new lip piercing was still a little tender, and she had been wary about changing her ring, but the blue one matched so well that she'd decided to go along with it anyway. Since she hadn't had any blue dresses, she'd thrown on a black tube top over a hugely flouncy black tulle skirt left over from a play she'd been in last Christmastime.

The pair of them walked around the huge room that made up most of the club while several people flurried around, putting the finishing touches on the "décor."

"Look." Lisa commanded, bringing Natasha's attention to where her finger was pointing. Natasha followed the line of her sight and noticed for the first time a large wooden deck jutting out the side of the club.

"Is it safe?" Natasha asked, glancing apprehensively at the old boards making up the bare patio deck.

"Who cares?" Lisa immediately replied. She glanced at Natasha, and winced at the scathing look her friend was giving her. "'Course it is. I mean, it should be. As long as nobody goes jumping off the edge, you know what I mean? I don't want to even think of all the toxic shit floating around in the water down there." She shrugged, pulling Natasha in the opposite direction so that she could see the place she would be stationed at throughout the night, taking people's money.

"And I don't have to dance?" She asked Lisa an hour later, after night had properly fallen and the first "customers" were stepping out of their cars, ready to party. Lisa's hair was now in two brown pigtails, crowned with a pair of sparkly plastic antennae bouncing around her head. She looked like a cross between Pippi Longstocking and the teletubbies' hot little sister. That is, if Pippi Longstocking had ever worn a neon pink mini dress with matching go-go boots.

"Don't worry about it." Lisa replied laughing, disappearing into the quickly growing group of dancers on the floor.

"Oh, I love your hair."

"Nice wig!"

"That is one kick-ass updo."

The greetings of the 'customers' made Natasha grin, and she was easily able to murmur appreciation for their outfits as well. Anyone who had bothered to dress up had gone all out, or at least, that's what it seemed like to her. After all, it was Halloween, the one day of the year you wouldn't get stared at for walking down the street in a rainbow Mohawk and chicken suit, complete with feathers.

Or maybe that guy dressed like that every day.

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**Ok, first chapter... Read and Review, for those few of you out there who actually read _Tithe_ fanfiction! C'mon- press that little button- You know you want to!**


	2. More Questions

**Disclaimer: Mmmkay- pretty much all this belongs to Holly Black, who has the coolest name EVER. (cough cough) I own nothing. Not even Natasha. Well, maybe I own Lisa. Okay, whatever, here it is:**

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**Chapter 2: "More Questions"**

The greetings of the 'customers' made Natasha grin, and she was easily able to murmur appreciation for their outfits as well. Anyone who had bothered to dress up had gone all out, or at least, that's what it seemed like to her. After all, it was Halloween, the one day of the year you wouldn't get stared at for walking down the street in a rainbow Mohawk and chicken suit, complete with feathers.

Or maybe that guy dressed like that every day.

After a few hours, Natasha noticed a change in the crowds entering. Before, the groups entering had been made up of the normal raver stock. Kids with multicolored hair and outfits that glowed in the dark were in abundance, while most of those with crazier outfits would be far apart and scattered throughout the crowd. Now however, much more… exotic outfits began to emerge. Natasha had just taken the money of an abnormally tall young man with a green beard, accompanied by a middle-aged woman wearing a full ball gown of white and lavender, when she noticed a familiar face weaving through the crowds.

"How goes it?" Lisa asked her, coming to sit on the spindly bench next the Natasha. Natasha shrugged, glancing at her with upraised eyebrows.

"I've been sitting here for two hours. Can't say I'm having a blast, but it's not bad."

"Oh no. You are not allowed to make me feel guilty for getting you to volunteer. You offered." Lisa told her, crossing her arms over her chest, a pout growing on her face.

"Nobody told me it would be this boring."

"This is boring?" Lisa asked her, eyeing three long-haired guys that looked heavily under-nourished to Natasha. Each was lugging themselves around in bondage pants and enough chains to literally 'sink a ship'. Natasha laughed, and Lisa grinned at her. "See? It's not so bad. I'll go get us something to drink." With that, she was gone, merging into the pulsating crowd of people on the "dance floor" which was really not even a designated area anymore. Natasha doubted anyone had imagined it would get _this_ crowded.

The 'punch' Lisa brought over was more cheap beer than anything else, and Natasha set it aside after only a couple sips. Seeing that she was content again for the moment, Lisa slipped off to dance again, and Natasha hadn't realized she'd gone until she went to ask her something- and couldn't find her.

She shook her head, trying not to groan. Lisa could get a little flaky, but she did have a point, Natasha had to admit to herself.

The girl's outfit was the first thing Natasha noticed about her. A purple vinyl catsuit that fit the girl like it had been made for her, Natasha was immediately envious. Smooth blonde hair tumbled around the girl's shoulders, falling around slanted almond shaped eyes. If her hair hadn't been so blonde, Natasha would have sworn she was Oriental. Maybe she was.

Silently, the girl glanced up at her date. It was a momentary look, but one that revealed the fatigue in the girl's eyes, and the trust she held for the guy. Natasha raised a thin blue eyebrow, and turned her gaze to the guy.

Headbanger, Natasha thought amusedly as he dropped two bills into her hand. Powerfully built and dressed all in black, he looked like Natasha's vision of a vampire. His hair was long- much longer than she'd ever seen on any other guy she knew, and ice pale in the moonlight.

They were an odd pair, but Natasha couldn't really have said anything more, since she'd seen more than her share of odd couples over the past few hours. The girl looked so delicate with her long blonde hair and thin fingers, and the guy looking as if he could kill someone… if he hadn't already. The expression on his face never changed. Or rather, the lack of expression. One thing was obvious however- his entire attention was taken up by the girl.

"Nice outfit," Natasha commented, bringing her gaze to the girl's eyes. The girl grinned in response, but the expression never quite made it to her eyes. Natasha smiled back hesitantly. There was something oddly familiar about her, Natasha thought, watching the pair make their way into the not-so abandoned club. She wracked her brain trying to remember where she'd seen her before, but gave up when Lisa returned and she still hadn't thought of it.

"You holding up okay?" Lisa grinned, the pink glow-stick in her mouth disappearing and reappearing with each word she spoke. "It really is kind of boring over here."

"Only cause you're here." Natasha replied, grinning to belie the insult. Lisa narrowed her eyes comically at her, but Natasha was only half joking. For the past half hour, the crowds had been slowly trickling down until they were all but stopped now. It seemed that wherever people had chosen to party, they were staying there.

The pair of friends chatted for awhile, Lisa even getting Natasha to bounce around in place for awhile. Finally free from her post, Natasha was happy to wander around with Lisa, and she eventually made it outside to the old wooden deck she'd been so afraid of collapsing earlier. She was just getting ready to drag Lisa back inside when a flash of red caught the corner of her eye, and she turned instinctively, pushing her way through the crowds until she was standing at the edge of the deck, peering into the murky water. Glancing around wildly, she noticed the blonde girl in the catsuit, strangely familiar, standing beside her.

"Did somebody just j-" A stone lodged in her throat, and she couldn't make herself finish the sentence. However, the blonde girl had hardly seemed to notice, so intently was she peering down into the water, a panicked look on her face. Before Natasha could even register what she was doing, the girl had vaulted over the railing, vanishing from sight beneath the tiny wavelets bumping up against the pier.

"What the hell, Natasha?" Lisa called, coming up behind her.

"Somebody just jumped into the water, maybe two people." Natasha told her, trying to be heard over the music while keeping her gaze lowered to the water. There was no sign of bodies or bubbles, and Natasha felt her blood run cold. Her hands were shaking- from the cold of the air or fear, she didn't know. Maybe both. "We've gotta call the cops."

"What? Are you crazy? Do you want to get arrested?" Lisa's voice trailed off, and Natasha turned to stare at her. At that moment, she became aware of a high pitched whine cutting through the bass pumping through the building. The crowds around them continued moshing, but she could tell Lisa had heard it as well by the look on her friend's face.

"C'mon- we've got to get out of here." Lisa yelled at her, pulling her away from the edge of the deck.

"But-"

"Natasha, please…" Lisa begged, and Natasha followed blindly through the crowds, sending up a silent prayer that the blonde girl would be okay.

Lisa made a quick detour to the door, where the box of money was still sitting, surprisingly untouched. It took her only a moment to grab it and the two girls raced out the front door of the club, pulling away in their car just as flashing blue and red bombarded the pier, and everyone still in the club.

The police had come.

Natasha had little enough time to worry about herself all that night, never mind the unearthly blonde chick who had gone and tried drowning herself in the toxic water of the Jersey coast. It wasn't until the next morning, when she woke to find herself sprawled on Lisa's sofa, that she remembered the pair of them hightailing it to Lisa's place, for the sole reason of it being closer to the pier itself.

Groggily, Natasha brushed a lank strand of dyed black hair out of her face, trying to blink away her lethargy. Strangely, her eyelids felt heavy, and she turned to glance in the mirror, cringing at what she saw. Blue mascara and eye shadow were caked around her eyelashes, and the glitter on her face was mostly gone. 'Train wreck' could have accurately described what she looked and felt like and she moaned softly, running pale fingers through her dirty hair.

Natasha carefully shuffled her way to Lisa's kitchen, and found her friend hovering over a plate of steaming pancakes. Lisa had her eyebrows squished together over her nose as she read the morning paper, and Natasha laughed at the sight of her.

Her smile abruptly vanished when Lisa looked up at her gravely, the girl's just-washed hair stuck to her t-shirt in wet clumps. "Nattie- something's happened."

"W-what?" Natasha could have smacked herself for sounding like a stuttering twelve-year-old, but if the look on Lisa's face was anything to go on, the news she was about to deliver wasn't good. Natasha had never been good with bad news.

"You know that girl you saw jump off the pier last night?"

Natasha's eyes widened in shock. Somehow, she already knew what was coming but, like a rubber-necker on the freeway, she had to ask anyway. "Yeah, what about her?"

"Nat- She's dead."

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**Little shorter than last time I think, but that's okay. I'm just proud of myself for getting over my laziness. Read and Review, and I will shower you with thanks. :)**

**Elizabeth- Dude, you rock for the sole reason of being my first reviewer. I totally agree with you though, there is a serious lack of all things Holly Black on this site. I hope you keep reading! That would make my day.**


	3. Ah, Youth

**Disclaimer: Everything in the story belongs to Ms. Black and her wonderful world of Faey. sigh**

A/N:  
Whoot! Reviews!  
Aimee: I know what you mean. We need more Holly Black stuff on this site!

Rose Spirit: So do I! Thanks for the encouragement :)

Condemned fey: I'm loving your user name. And if you've been looking as long as I have, then it's been way too long. Here's another chapter for ya.

**Sorry I've taken so long to update! School started, and I'm going insane. Tis all good, however, 'cause I finally finished another chapter. Whoot.**

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**Chapter 3: "Ah, Youth"**

"Dead?" Natasha asked warily, stepping forward hesitantly to take the paper from Lisa's outstretched hand. "That's impossible."

Lisa just shook her head mutely, waiting as Natasha scanned the article. Most of it was useless, all about the rave and what the police had commented on, mostly how irresponsible teenagers in general were. There were hardly three sentences about the dead girl they'd found in the water. There was no name for her, but Natasha hadn't expected there to be. The family would have wanted to keep it quiet, most like.

As she gave the paper back to her friend, she could feel her hands shaking. Her eyes found Lisa's, and she knew the look in them was reflected in her own eyes.

"Should we… I don't know. _Do_ something?" Lisa asked, a tremor in her voice. Guilt. It was the same feeling washing over Natasha. A flood that she knew could drown more surely than the heaviest wave of water.

"Like what?" Natasha asked her, sharper than she had intended. "Send flowers?"

Ignoring her friend's morbid sarcasm, Lisa replied. "Well, it is our…"

"No." Natasha told her, staring straight into Lisa's eyes, as if that would somehow get her point across more forcefully. "It is most definitely not our fault. You can't blame yourself that some girl got drunk and dove in." Lisa nodded, but Natasha could tell that the statement didn't change anything- for either of them. The unspoken words both girls wanted to say hung in the air between them, battling around inside them silently.

Natasha left Lisa's house quickly after that. She couldn't bear staying any longer.

No matter how hard she tried, Natasha couldn't get the fragile blonde girl out of her head. Was she the one who had died? Or had it been the other one? The flash of red Natasha had caught out of the corner of her eye, disappearing beneath the waves. She was sure there had been another girl. There must have been.

_This is unbelievable. Just stop it already. The girl's dead. There's nothing you can do._ Natasha scolded herself silently, driving past the familiar college campus she had learned to navigate like it was her home. Usually, Natasha and Lisa shared one of the dorm rooms on campus, but lately, Lisa had gotten into the habit of staying at the house she'd grown up in. It wasn't like her parents were ever there anyway. They traveled almost constantly, and had been since their only child had gone off to college. It was at this house that the girls had spent the night, and Natasha wondered vaguely if Lisa was still there, worrying about what they'd done.

Somehow, the air inside their room was colder than the air outside, and Natasha shivered involuntarily, running agitated fingers through newly-dyed black hair. She was still groggy from the severe lack of sleep she'd gotten, but at least her face was clean. She didn't want to imagine the kind of looks she would have gotten had she not showered at Lisa's parent's house. Liberal art-y people or no, if you looked like crap, then people would twitter. It was human nature, or something.

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A month passed, and then two, and then two more. Slowly, Natasha forced herself to forget the girl. _Girls_, she amended. She had more important things to worry about than suicides on Halloween. It had all the ring of a fairytale. One of those dark, weird ones. Like something out of Sylvia Plath or Edgar Allen Poe. Insane people who shut themselves up, only to die by their own hand, letting every dark, grotesque creature of the holiday strip their flesh from their bones and their soul from their hearts.

It didn't matter. Natasha pushed the lingering guilt down inside herself, where she could pretend it didn't exist, and go about living her own life, instead of crying over a pair of people she'd never even met.

Natasha was falling asleep to the sound of Lisa's soft snoring above her on the bunk bed when the shrill sound of the telephone made her curse.

"What?" She answered the phone curtly, glancing up to where Lisa was still sound asleep.

" 'What?' Is that how you answer a phone, Kaylie?"

"It is when you call at two in the morning." Natasha answered her mother's query with a sigh, rising to the occasion as far as her sleep deprived mind would let her. Trust her mother to call the night she'd stayed up late studying for an exam. Natasha knew she would have no chance of passing if she kept her mother talking forever. More like a chance of passing out, during the test. Wonderful. Natasha reasoned that if she asked her mother what the hell she was doing up at this hour, the woman would leave her alone. "Mom, what's up?" She asked, trying and failing to put a note of concern in her voice. "Is something so important you had to call me _now_?"

This seemed to give Sara pause, because there was almost a full thirty seconds of dead air before she spoke again, Natasha waiting as patiently as she could for her mother to tell her whatever it was she had called about.

"It's Grandma."

"Which one?"

"Grandma Irene." Sara paused, but Natasha made no move as if to speak, and the dead air coming from her side of the phone spurred Sara to tell the rest of her story. "Kaylie, she isn't doing well. I was wondering if you could take a week or two and go see her?"

Was her mother trying to be so very clueless, or was it just Natasha hearing her wrong? "Mom, what are you talking about? What do I take a week off from?"

"College, of course." Natasha tried not to scream at her mother's reply. Of course Sara, who had never gone to college, or even finished highschool for all that, would think that leaving school for 'a week or two' would be as easy as getting a few PTO days from work.

"Mom, I can't just leave. It's college for Chris' sake." Natasha tried to hide the irritation in her voice behind another sigh. It wasn't that she hated spending time with her little-old-lady grandmother, it was the fact that Sara would rather inconvenience Natasha than go and visit her mother-in-law herself. "Why can't you drop by?"

"Because she doesn't like me. If you go and see her, it will do both of you so much good."

Natasha had every intention of refuting this when her mother, in a voice that sounded exactly like her own at her worst, pleaded softly. "Please, Kaylie. You're Father would have wanted you two to be close."

Damn. She'd used the F word. Natasha had been dreading it, but it seemed her mother had pulled out the big guns tonight. Both of them knew she could never turn something down when Sara told her 'Father would have wanted it'. Damn.

It took her all the next day after her exam to get all the assignments from her professors that she would miss in the next few days. Most of them gave her odd looks when she told them it was a family emergency, as if they could tell she was lying. These she chose to ignore, and the few teachers who wished her a good journey she left with a smile.

Grandma Irene lived quite close to both the college and the house Natasha had grown up in. Therefore, it was barely two hours later when Natasha found herself knocking on the old wooden door, painted a bright blue that had faded to a dingy gray over the years. Like the neighborhood and the woman who lived inside, the house had not stood up well to the challenge of time, although Natasha thought it must have been beautiful at the time it was built. For a moment, as she gazed up at the gables and shingles adorning the roof, she could almost see the outside walls as they must have been fifty years ago. Things like the bright white paint that had faded to a gray not unlike that of the door, and the edging on the roof, once a dark blue, was now black with age and mold.

"Kaylie? Is that you?" A spindly woman who still stood tall despite her age, leaned past the open door to grab Natasha in a hug that, ten years ago, would have swept the breath from the girl's lungs. Now however, Natasha was stronger, and Grandma Irene had not gotten any younger. There was less power in the hug, and Natasha was sick at the realization that she could no longer feel safe in her grandmother's arms. Anything could break through their frail hold. Anything at all.

Grandma Irene ushered her inside, and Natasha glanced around at the familiar objects scattered all across the room. To her surprise, most everything looked well kept-up and clean. She doubted her grandmother would have had the strength to clean, and she instantly felt guilty that the woman had exerted herself on her granddaughter's account. Natasha would hardly be staying a few days, and she tried telling her Grandmother this, but the woman shushed her.

"Oh, I still have some spark left in this old bag of bones I've become." Irene told her, chuckling in a creaky sort of way. "Besides, I've gotten me a helper."

"Oh?" Natasha asked her, for the first time realizing that Irene looked just as well as the last time she'd seen her. Her mother had lied, telling her that Grandma was in bad shape. What was the point of that? And if Irene had a helper around the house, what need did she have of her granddaughter?

"Yes. Aspen comes over every other day and helps me around, does errands. He's a wonderful help."

"Grandma, you have someone working for you named Aspen? Isn't that a… tree, or something?" Irene only smiled lightly, changing the subject, which annoyed Natasha immensely. She wanted to know more about who exactly was helping her Grandmother. She had never liked the idea of having to rely on others for help, and knowing that her Grandmother had to was almost unbearable.

"You've dyed your hair." Irene commented wryly, taking a whistling pot of hot water off the stove and making two cups of instant coffee.

"Yes. Do you hate it?" Natasha asked, amused despite herself. If there was one person who she could count on to support her whether she dyed her hair, moved halfway around the globe, or decided to join a nudist colony, it was Grandma.

"I don't hate it." Irene told her, setting a blue mug in front of Natasha. "You're so pale though. It looks unnatural." She paused, sipping at the steaming drink. "No. Not unnatural. Ethereal." She amended, smiling her half-smile at her granddaughter. "Reminds me a bit of Aspen, actually. Half the time he looks like he belongs in one of your books. I think you'll like him."

_No. I won't._ It didn't matter if he would turn out to be the most charming being on earth. She refused to like him until she'd spoken to him. "What books?"

"Oh, those fairy stories you liked so much when you were little. Sometimes, when I look out of the corner of my eye at him, it looks like he has wings." The wrinkled old woman finished with satisfaction, waiting for Natasha to remark on it. When the younger woman only raised an eyebrow, Irene amended: "But then, I blink, and he's back to his normal self." The old woman sighed, and for a moment, Natasha wondered at all those times she'd been read those fairy stories by the woman sitting across from her. Natasha used to believe so much in everything those books said, but years had gone by, and she'd grown out of it. For the first time, she began to realize that her grandmother, who lived in an old house next to a sprawling graveyard, with antique knickknacks piled up against every wall, had never really stopped believing in all those things. Boys with wings and haunted lamps all were a part of this woman's life.

Still smiling, Irene picked herself off her chair, moving to rinse out her cup at the sink. Natasha, over the rushing water, could hear the jangle of keys outside the front door, and had just enough time to stand and glance worriedly in that direction before her grandmother turned and spoke.

"Oh, and that'll be Aspen now." At the look Natasha was giving her, she frowned. "I know how you feel about these things, but I gave him keys to the front door. I hope you don't mind too badly."

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**Cliffhanger (kinda) dun dun dun. **

**Mmmkay. That's all for now folks. I'll try to update more often and more regularly, but no promises. Read and Review!**


	4. The Good Folk

**Disclaimer: I don't own this, Holly Black does. Except Irene. I own Irene. Nah na na na na.**

A/N: Dude, I was so totally not going to update because of my crazy schedule. Everybody should thank Kinz for getting my ass back at my desk chair so I could update again. lol. Kinz, you pretty much rock. (:

Rose Spirit: Alas, not quite. :P You'll just have to read it now, won't you?

Midnight-kelpe: Er, you can get off your knees now. lol.

Mariphear: Umh, not really. I mean, I get inspired, y'know?

Silver Shield Maiden: Umh, 6 or 7? what? Other than that, yeah... Natasha's dad won't come into play for a bit. Sorry!

**EDIT: Ravus's eyes are now gold! You can even check! I fixed it!**

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"Oh, and that'll be Aspen now." At the look Natasha was giving her, she frowned. "I know how you feel about these things, but I gave him keys to the front door. I hope you don't mind too badly." 

Chapter 4: "The Good Folk"

Natasha sat back down uneasily. Before she could open her mouth to reprimand her grandmother about security issues, the door was pushed open and a voice called from the direction of the front door.

"Irene? You home?"

"You let him call you by your first name?" Natasha asked her grandmother incredulously as the woman hobbled around the table. "What are you guys, dating now?" She only got a glare in response, and shut her mouth as Irene disappeared around the corner into the living room.

"Hello Aspen. Haven't seen _you _in days. Haven't been up to any mischief now, have we?"

"Only as often as I can manage it," was the retort that came from Aspen. Despite herself, Natasha felt her traitorous curiosity rising up in her gut, and moved to stand. Before she could get far, Irene hobbled back in to view, with a young man on her heels.

Natasha was surprised to see that he was just about her age. Or at least, that's how old he looked. Unbidden to her mind cam the memory of Irene telling her 5-year-old self that faeries could look as young as they wanted, or as old. For all she knew, this Aspen kid could be as old as Irene. Shaking the childish thought away, she watched as Aspen and her grandmother bantered back and forth for a moment.

As if sensing her thoughts, Aspen's eyes rose to meet her gaze, and Natasha hurriedly glanced at her shoes. If there was one thing that her friends always liked to tease her about, it was how she was helpless when it came to guys. It didn't matter how witty and carefree she was with her girl friends, when a guy came into her vicinity, she turned into a bumbling mass of shuffling feet and averted eyes.

Before she had lost his gaze however, she'd noticed how his eyes had gleamed a gold color she'd never really seen on anyone else. His gaze was unnerving, but she still felt like an idiot looking away from him. Natasha didn't want to know what Irene thought about the encounter, and forced herself to look up again before the elderly lady could say anything about it.

Two pairs of amused eyes regarded her as she looked up, and Natasha tried not to sigh out loud in exasperation. However, neither chose to say anything, and Irene instead turned to ask Aspen if he'd had anything to eat, maybe?

"No. And don't you dare try to feed me. I absolutely won't allow it." Aspen grinned, shaking his head as Irene immediately turned towards her cupboard. At his words, she narrowed here eyes at him.

"You're too thin, I keep telling you. If I don't feed you, who else will?" Irene smirked, as if she knew the boy wouldn't have a satisfactory answer.

"Irene," He began in a faux condescending tone, "I can feed myself, you know."

The old woman took one look at his lanky frame and responded frankly. "No, you can't." Irene turned her gaze to her granddaughter then, and commented wryly, "And neither can Natasha. The two of you should go binging together."

_Oh my god… Irene did not just say that…_ Natasha told herself, but now Aspen was openly laughing and those gold eyes were focused on her again.

"You know we should, just to spite her?" Aspen asked her thoughtfully.

Instead of replying with one of the hundreds of witty things she could have said, Natasha just found herself grinning. At least she could still do that, even if she did go tongue-tied too often around guys. And Aspen did seem like a decent guy. Natasha had to admit that if Irene had tried feeding her more, she probably would have responded in much the same way.

"So, what's on the agenda today, Irene?" Aspen asked the woman lightly, and she responded in kind with a list of things she wanted him to accomplish for her, since she couldn't drive or run errands any longer.

It occurred to Natasha as she watched them that they were very friendly with one another, almost as if they'd known each other for years instead of just the one month Irene had specified to Natasha. Her mind went straight back to the faeries and their glamour, and she tried pushing away the idea for what felt like the bazillionth time today. What was wrong with her, that she suddenly couldn't stop thinking about little winged creatures? Maybe it was Irene's house that did it. The woman lived in the middle of New Jersey, next to an ancient graveyard, in a house that had been around for over a century. It was the perfect setting for some kind of creepy fairy tale, and Natasha felt suddenly like she'd accidentally stepped into one. From the eerie blonde girl she still couldn't get out of her dreams, to the gold-eyed boy standing only a few feet from her.

"Natasha?" Irene was staring at her granddaughter with wide eyes, and Natasha found herself snapping back to reality in a much more sudden fashion than she'd intended.

"Yeah?"

"Drift off?" Irene asked, her voice innocent and clear.

Natasha just rolled her eyes at her grandmother. "So? It's not like I missed much."

"Irene was wondering if you wanted to come along with us." Aspen supplied, and Natasha turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. He'd spoken for Irene when she was fully capable of doing so herself, and Natasha wondered why the woman didn't pounce on him for doing so. Irene was always very particular about what she could and couldn't do.

"Actually, I'm not one for going out today. I thought Natasha could accompany you instead. Both of you together will do a much better job of remembering what my old brain can't." Irene smiled at them both, and Natasha glanced at Aspen. The look on his face was unmistakably hurt, and Natasha couldn't help staring for a moment. She knew he'd catch her, and when his gaze turned towards hers, the emotion quickly bled away and she was looking at an unnaturally sharp-featured face devoid of any emotion. This time, it was Aspen who looked away first, and as Irene bustled them off towards the door, Natasha could have sworn the same look of hurt was spreading itself across her grandmother's gaze.

Just before they left, Irene seemed to remember some last minute errand, and told Aspen to wait a moment while Natasha waited outside.

Glancing around the driveway, Natasha was surprised to see no sign of a car. She tried to remember if she'd heard one come up the driveway at the arrival of Aspen, but her thoughts were punctured when Aspen shut and locked the door carefully behind himself and turned towards her, his eyes blank from any emotion.

Without glancing at her, he led the way down the driveway, and when he was halfway to the street, he turned to look back at her.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I thought so. Where are _you _going?"

Natasha thought Aspen looked as confused as she felt, and she tried to not have a look of disbelief on her face.

"Didn't you drive here?" When Aspen shook his head, Natasha groaned. "Do you want me to drive then? It's like, six miles to town from here." She tried not to let the distaste show in her voice. If she could prevent it, she wasn't walking six miles.

A brief look of disgust passed over Aspen's features, but when he spoke again, his voice just sounded bored. "I don't drive." With that, he took off down the driveway again, and Natasha found herself speeding up to catch him.

They walked in silence for a while, and Natasha tried not to think about all the weird glances they were probably getting from motorists passing by. It wasn't like there were a lot of pedestrians here. There wasn't even a sidewalk, for Christ's sake.

As they walked in silence, Natasha tried shoving down the impulse to look at him again. She kept telling herself that the only reason she was interested in him was because he had an interesting-looking face, but even she could tell that she wasn't fooling anyone.

Granted, he did have an interesting face, and when they stopped at the first stoplight a mile down the road, she glanced at him before he could notice her staring.

His face was more angular and his features sharper than she normally saw in people and the gaunt look of his frame made him even more so. However, he didn't slouch like other tall people she knew. Instead, his back was straight, as if he didn't care that he would never fit in with a crowd or ever get lost at the mall. The longish black hair that hung around his ears made his skin look sallow, and Natasha was wondering if the hair color was natural, when the guy turned to stare back at her with wide eyes.

The question he asked was thoughtful, and more of a statement than anything else, but Natasha was surprised by it nonetheless.

"You have the Sight, don't you?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, somehow knowing she was misinterpreting the question. "Yes, I can see."

A smile was trying not to show itself on his face, and when the light turned green, he walked ahead, his longer stride quickly outdistancing her. Natasha tried not to groan again.

"Wait!" When Aspen refused to acknowledge her, she just kept trotting along beside him until he seemed to take pity on her and slowed down.

"What do you mean, I have the Sight?" She pronounced the last word with a capital letter as he had done, which made him frown slightly, any traces of a smile gone from his face.

"I've done it now, haven't I?" He asked no one in particular, glancing at her resignedly.

"Done what?"

At this, he stopped walking, and Natasha actually found herself walking a step or two ahead before realizing her mistake and turning towards Aspen.

"You have the Sight. It isn't very strong with you, I'll warrant. Diluted in your blood through your mother's line, but solid in your father's line. Irene has the gift as well." He looked at her thoughtfully again, then glanced over her shoulder at the heavy cloud cover that had formed over the New Jersey coast.

Natasha was now feeling very confused, and more than a little nervous about being in the middle of nowhere with this Aspen kid. He was talking cryptically, which wasn't in the least amusing, as all it did was add to her confusion. What was all this about the Sight and bloodlines? And how did he know so much about her family anyway.

_Irene's been telling him stories._ Natasha thought despairingly, realizing that to Irene, all her family history was just as real as the fairy tales she'd read to her son and granddaughter when they'd been growing up. If Irene had been confiding in Aspen, there was no doubt she'd mixed fantasy in as well, and now Aspen was trying to goad Irene's granddaughter into thinking he was one of "them."

_Right._ Natasha thought. _More like insane. Fairies don't even exist._

Trying to catch him at his own game, she asked blandly, "So, you one of 'them', then?"

"'Them?'" Aspen asked, watching her with raised eyebrows as her walked.

"Fairies."

Aspen paused before he answered, but there was no telltale sign of a grin like she'd suspected. Instead, as he nodded, she realized that he was serious. For a moment, she froze, grasping that she was standing in the middle of nowhere with some crazy dude who thought he was a fairy.

"They prefer not to be called that, though. Irene must have told you _that_."

_What?_

"What?" Natasha stopped for the nest stoplight, realizing they were almost at town now. Good. The faster they got there, the faster she could grab a taxi or something and hightail it back to Irene's house.

"The Folk don't normally like to be called "faerie", which is probably one of the basic stories Irene told you. And then of course, you really aren't supposed to say…"

"…their real names. I know all this. Why the hell are you telling me?"

His eyes widened, and he glared at her. "You don't know? I admit that the Sight is weakened in you, but you can't honestly not know!"

Feeling even more retarded than she had in a while, Natasha asked tentatively, "Know what?"

Aspen glanced away from her, looking lost.

"You mean to tell me…" He began hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure how to phrase it. "That Irene never told you that her house is situated almost on top of the Unseelie Court?"

"Er… no actually, she failed to mention it." Natasha stuttered, staring at Aspen with wide eyes. Old stories of Irene's came back to her at the mention of the Unseelie Court, and she found herself remembering tales about the place that weren't particularly endearing to her seven-year-old mind.

"And who are you, then? How come you keep visiting Irene?" Natasha found herself talking back Aspen, forgetting for a moment what she now instinctively knew him to be. No real human playing a prank would have been able to keep his story or his face so straight for so long.

Aspen sighed, running long fingers through his long dark hair. "I've known Irene for a long time."

"How long?" Natasha heard herself interrupting, but the words seemed to come out of some foreign creature, and not out of her own mouth at all. Why was she asking? Did she really want to know?

The faerie was counting in her head, and his answer, once he gave it, was exactly what Natasha hadn't wanted to hear.

"Since… 1943, I believe. Possibly 1945. I can't remember. Sometime during the war, anyway."

"Oh." It seemed like the only intelligent thing to say. "And…" She tried phrasing her question as best she could, but in the end just blurted it out. If he really was a faerie, there was really no polite way of asking anyway.

"What's your name? I mean, is it Aspen?"

She wasn't expecting his full name, so when he answered, she tried feeling proud that she'd gotten any sort of answer at all.

"I am called Ravus, most of the time."

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Okay, last line stolen a little off Garth Nix, but only a **diehard** fan like me would notice, so I thought it would be okay :P 

Also, keep reviewing! That's the only thing that keeps me going! lmao. Tell me you hate it to death that I've put Ravus instead of Roiben in. I know you do. C'mon, you're sitting there, foaming at the mouth in anger. You know you are. Either that, or you actually like Ravus a tiny bit more than Roiben gasp I know. (cough not-me-I-swear cough)


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